The second time around, p.8
The Second Time Around, page 8
“Do you want to come in?”
Just like that? Did he want to come in? Did he want to go have sex with this strange woman? What about birth control? He felt like a teenager, except even dumber. Maybe he could go in. Feel it out a little. Talk. No, he didn’t want to do any more talking. Dinner had been long enough.
She lifted her fingers off him when he didn’t answer right away. “You could meet Migzey.”
That settled it. Hell no to the cat.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to get home to my son. I’m still dealing with babysitters.” He gave her a grimace, but inside he could not have been more grateful for Tommy and Claire right now. His get-out-of-dates-free card. When disappointment flashed over her face, he said, “I’ll walk you up.”
They both got out. Slower than a funeral march, they walked side by side. He stopped before the bottom step leading to her door.
“Thanks for taking a chance on me tonight,” Banks said.
She turned and gave him a hug. She pulled back but kept her arms around his neck. Her face was inches from his. He could smell the wine and lime on her breath. She pressed her lips to his. He froze at first. Then relaxed into it. His hands shifted to her lower back. Her soft boobs smooshed against his chest. He deepened the kiss. Habit, and also, it was fun. I’m so sorry, Helen.
She finally pulled back, her eyes dark. “Are you going to call me again?”
He swallowed. That was frank. He thought of the rest of the women’s numbers he had. A whole list of potential. Barbara wasn’t the one for him. He thought of Claire. Stop thinking about Claire. “I had fun tonight. And you’re a wonderful woman, Claire.”
“Claire?” She stepped back, brows tight, eyes blazing.
Heat roared to his face. “I’m so sorry, Barbara. I’m terrible with names.”
She softened, looking ready to forgive him. He didn’t really want that either. He was a mess.
“I think I’d better go before I make more of an ass of myself. Thanks again.” Without waiting for her reply, he turned and strode to his car. She was still standing at her doorstep when he got to his door. He waved, a stupid little wiggle of his fingers. He hated himself for it. He got in the car and drove away.
As he drove, he thought over the date. Replayed the conversation. The kiss. He got hard thinking about it. Maybe he should have slept with her. It had been over four months now. But that would not have been fair to her. There was zero future with that relationship. And he wasn’t really a one-night-stand kind of guy. Maybe he could be? He blew out a breath so hard he did a raspberry with his lips. He did it again because it felt good, kind of shook off the kiss.
When he pulled into his garage, he felt suddenly guilty, like Helen would be in there and he’d have to go confess. In all his late nights at the office and work trips, he’d never come close to cheating on Helen. She was his queen. Sometimes he’d felt like her king. Other times her knight. And even at times her court jester. But when he returned home to his castle, it wasn’t Helen’s face that greeted him. It was Claire’s. And he wanted to apologize to her too.
She sat in his high-back chair facing the ocean. She closed her book, took off her brown-rimmed glasses, and swiveled to face him. The lamplight accented her high cheekbones and straight nose. Damn she was beautiful. And he was still horny.
She checked her phone, and he saw the time light up: 9:02. “You’re back before I expected.” She sent him a rueful grin. “Not great?”
He dropped onto his couch with a chuckle. “She has a cat named Migzey and is a vegetarian who ordered steak.”
Claire laughed out loud.
It was a magical sound. So bold and deep. He wanted to make her do it again. Wanted to listen to it forever.
“How exotic.” Her eyes twinkled.
“She was perfectly nice. Nice personality, nice looking. And I was not interested. It wasn’t her fault, and I feel bad about it.” He shook his head. “Is dating always this hard?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? You’ve been at this for what? It’s been five years since Stevie passed?”
“I don’t date.” She said it like a prison sentence.
He went cold all over. “Ever?”
“Ever.”
The word dropped like a punch to the groin.
“I’m a committed spinster.”
He leaned forward. “Why?” She must have men lining up to take her out. He wanted to take her out. He could no longer deny it.
She opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it. Studied him.
He tried to relax under the scrutiny. Could she tell that he wished he’d been with her tonight instead? Could she tell he was already getting used to coming home to her face every evening? He wanted to lead her to his bedroom right now. Sorry again, Helen. He leaned back and cleared his throat. His voice came out in his professional tone. “Excuse me. That’s none of my business. Thank you for staying late on your Friday night.”
Her face softened. “Give yourself time. I think one of the weaknesses in our culture is we try to rush grief. We expect people to bounce back way too fast. Let yourself feel the sorrow move through you, change you, heal you. You’ll know when there’s space again for love to take root. You’re still in the cleansing-fire part of the story.”
Banks blinked at her. She spoke truth. She spoke from experience. “You are incredibly wise, Claire.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not. I’ve just been where you are. Maybe not exactly, since things were different between me and Stevie than the lovely marriage you clearly had with Helen, but grief is universal. Everyone gets a turn with it.”
Stevie had hurt her; Banks could tell. The realization made him spike with anger and a desire to protect her. He wanted to make it better.
“I spent too many years fighting against feeling any of the pain.” She fiddled with her readers. “I shoved it all away, determined that would make it disappear. Obviously, that doesn’t work.” She shrugged with a self-deprecating chuckle.
He leaned forward, chest tight with empathy. “Claire—”
She held up a forestalling hand. “I’m not telling you all of this for sympathy, but to say that now, for some reason, it seems that I’m finally surrendering—er, maybe it’s more like I’m accepting the experiences of my past instead of denying I was hurt—and I’m feeling healthier and happier than I have in years. You might as well learn from my mistakes.” She put a hand on her chest. “I’m sorry if I’m being too personal.”
“No, not at all.”
“I just want you to know that your family has taught me a lot by your kindness, and I wanted to say I’m grateful.” She looked out the windows as if shy of her confession.
Banks held his breath, not knowing what to say and wishing Helen were here. She would know how to help Claire, who was so obviously being brave in her honesty, who was carrying a lot more than she let on. Why did it all have to be so hard?
“I thought after all these years, I would have healed automatically. Time would be the cure. Space definitely helped, but I was avoiding tending to my grief. Now, I can feel the shift toward healing happening much faster.” She sighed. She looked as tired as he felt. “I know that part of it is that my youngest daughter moved out, leaving me alone, with little choice but to look inside myself, but I also know that a big part of it is your family being so welcoming.”
Banks’s heart swelled. Her words were like healing balm over his anxieties. He’d been so worried that without Helen he was failing entirely, but Claire made him feel useful. He sparked with hope. We did something good, Helen. He felt the memory of his wife wrap his chest with the warmth of approval. Heat built behind his eyes.
Claire stood.
He didn’t want her to go. Her presence was comfortable and pleasurable and interesting. This bit of connection she’d forged tonight felt like she’d thrown him a lifeline. He didn’t want to be left alone.
“Someday you’ll find another great woman, Banks. And when you find her, she’ll be lucky to have you.”
The words were meant to be kind, but coming from her, they felt like cold rejection. “Thanks.”
Claire left, and Banks told himself he was glad he wouldn’t see her until Monday. He needed a little break, some space between her and his rising interest. And resentment. She had certainly implied that she thought he was great, but she didn’t want him.
After all his bravado, when Monday evening came, he couldn’t help being eager to see her again. Unfortunately it wasn’t only Claire and Tommy who greeted him as he strode into his kitchen after work.
His in-laws were here.
Tommy sat next to his grandfather, playing with a new puzzle they must have brought him. Claire sat in a chair across from the coffee table, looking uncomfortable. Helen’s mother stood up from the couch when she saw Banks. She checked her watch.
He gritted his teeth against what would come next.
“It’s nearly seven. Quite a late night at the office. You missed dinner.” Jan reached out for a hug, and he forced his arms around her soft torso.
“I didn’t know you were coming down.” He was unable to completely hide the irritation in his voice. No text or call?
“Well, dear, we were already down this way and couldn’t leave without stopping by.”
“What brought you down here?” he asked. They lived north of LA. It was a two-hour drive . . . without traffic.
Neil, Helen’s father, stood and strode over, holding his hand out. “You look well.”
“Thank you,” Banks muttered.
“Much better than when we saw you six weeks ago,” Jan said.
The two in-laws were gathered around him like carrion birds over a carcass. He couldn’t breathe.
“This must be Claire’s doing,” Jan said, motioning toward the woman now tidying books on the coffee table. Banks did not like the look in Jan’s all-seeing eyes, even if she was right and Claire had worked magic on him.
He could only pray they hadn’t been picking her apart. “I see you met Tommy’s nanny.”
“She’s wonderful,” Neil said. “She’s not Helen, but I’m glad you’ve gotten some help.”
Of course, she wasn’t Helen. Helen was dead. Thanks for the reminder.
“You were really struggling on your own,” Jan said.
True. But, rude. Banks didn’t need to be told point blank he didn’t make a great solo parent. He’d learned it the hard way. Twice. When Smith was born, and now this.
Claire stood and walked around the couch. “Welcome home, Banks. If you don’t need anything else tonight, I’ll head home.”
“Of course. I’ll walk you out.”
With epically long strides, she beelined toward the door.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to his in-laws.
Jan nodded knowingly.
She didn’t know anything. Banks scowled at her before he followed Claire. Outside, he closed the door on prying ears and touched Claire’s elbow, stopping her on the step. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they were coming.”
“It’s fine. They were nice.”
“Really? They didn’t ask you a lot of personal questions?”
“They did.”
His belly clenched. “I’m sorry. How long have they been here?”
“About two hours.”
He leaned back in dismay. His in-laws had obviously stopped by to wait for the traffic to die down. No sane person would drive through LA at 5:00 p.m. if they could avoid it.
“They told me I could go, but I didn’t want to leave Tommy with anyone else without getting your okay first. And it was fine, really.”
Banks exhaled. She was amazing. “Thank you, Claire.” The words didn’t feel like enough.
Smith pulled up and parked at the curb. He strode over, his face grim. “Gramps and Gran are here?”
Claire chuckled at Smith’s serious tone, and he gave her a small smile.
“They let you know before me,” Banks said.
“I got a call twenty minutes ago demanding I come say hello.”
“How delightful.” Banks frowned.
“I see you’re fleeing the scene,” Smith said to Claire.
“I already did my time.” She matched their locker-room tone.
He cringed. “You brave girl.”
“They are perfectly nice people.” Her chuckle undermined the words.
Smith tilted his chin. “You must not be talking about the Neil and Jan Shellburg, founders of the stare, champions of the guilt trip, experts at the passive aggressive . . .”
She pulled a face that made her look spirited and very young. Good thing she was focused on Smith, because Banks couldn’t stop ogling the vibrant woman.
“Get in there and play the doting grandson.” Her voice was teasing.
Smith doffed an invisible cap, and with a wink, he dashed inside.
Banks rolled out his neck and followed his son into battle. Moments later, they were all sitting on the couch, staring at each other in silence.
“Smith, you’re not married yet?”
“No, Gran. I broke up with the last runner-up, so it’ll be a while. I’m taking a bit of a mental health break from dating.”
Jan frowned, and Banks had to bite back his smile. That kid knew how to needle her.
She turned to her son-in-law. “Are you dating?”
Banks shook his head and looked pointedly at Tommy, who’d lifted his gaze from his puzzle to focus on the conversation. Kids only listen when you don’t want them to.
Jan’s lips turned so far down, the corners disappeared into her wrinkles. “He needs an m-o-t-h-e-r.”
Banks swallowed back his rising temper. He was a fifty-year-old man, responsible and successful. He should not feel like he was twenty again and first meeting the Shellburgs, desperate to make a good impression. “We are doing just fine. Better than fine. And we have help now.”
“Yes,” Jan said. “About her.”
“Put a ring on it,” Neil said, making the motion of sliding a wedding band on.
“It?” Smith’s voice was a sudden pop of incredulity.
Jan and Neil ignored him, turning to Banks.
“You need to catch her and keep her,” Jan said.
Banks hated, hated, that he might agree with Jan on this. “Before you get your minds set on this unauthorized setup, you should know that she’s committed to never date or remarry. She is off the table.”
Smith’s eyes turned intense. “Are you serious?”
Banks nodded. “Not that it’s our business, but I get the impression her husband wasn’t a nice man.”
Emotion darkened Smith’s face. Banks wanted to ask what he was thinking.
“She did seem flighty,” Neil said.
Smith’s nostrils flared.
He hadn’t expected it from Smith, but he appreciated that he wasn’t the only one incensed on Claire’s behalf. “Why are you so eager for me to move on from Helen?” Banks asked.
“Obviously you’ll never find anyone equal to our daughter.” Jan puffed with pride. “But you need a woman, Banks. You’re not suited to bachelorhood.” She looked at Tommy. “Or single parenthood.”
His temper spiked white hot, but since he didn’t know how to argue that, he said, “I don’t appreciate you coming here without telling me and hounding my employee with personal questions.”
“Watch your tone,” Neil said.
Banks chewed his tongue. Smith’s lips thinned to a hard line.
Silence pulsed. One beat. Two.
Jan bobbled her head. “So, are you going to ask me how my hip is doing?”
“How’s your hip?” Banks’s tone was flat.
“It hurts.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“Thank you, dear.”
Chapter 15
SMITH
Smith said goodbye to his clients and walked to his car. He couldn’t stop smiling. This deal was the best one he’d brokered this year, and it had closed this morning. Money was in hand.
Back at the office, he floated through paperwork and emails. He was still beaming when he left work and drove south to Emerald Bay. He was having dinner with Dad and Tommy tonight to celebrate his big commission. As he pulled up to the house, he took off his tie and unbuttoned his collar. He let himself in through the front door with his key.
“Hey-o. Tom? Pops?”
No answer. He tracked through the kitchen and noticed the side door was ajar. The pool water rippled outside. Were they seriously swimming? It was only five thirty, but Smith was hungry. He was hoping they’d leave ASAP for dinner. He stepped outside and stopped as Claire emerged from the pool like a sea siren, her eyes closed and her dark hair slicked back with water.
“Marco,” she said.
Tommy, sitting on the stairs, looked at Smith and held a finger to his lips. “Polo,” he whispered.
Eyes still closed, Claire smiled, her white teeth shining in the sunlight. Her collarbones glistened as she rose higher, revealing a low-neck blue one-piece. Rivulets coursed over her breasts as she stood.
Smith stared.
These last weeks when thoughts of Claire had invaded his peace, he’d reminded himself that she was too old for him. But with her fresh face and energetic tone, the age gap seemed to fold up and disappear entirely.
Claire waded toward Tommy. “Marco.”
He giggled and dived.
She opened her eyes and looked at the now-empty stairs. Her gaze tracked the little boy’s movement through the water. Then she looked up and saw Smith. She did a double take.
“You’re cheating.” Smith grinned.
She laughed, her face like sunshine. “And I still can’t win.” She turned toward Tommy, who’d popped up behind her. She reached for him, and he latched on.
Smith couldn’t fail to notice that Tommy’s arm pressed across Claire’s chest, his legs tight around her waist. Punk. And Smith was the idiot jealous of a five-year-old. But a koala-bear hug wasn’t exactly the embrace he wanted to be sharing with her. Instead of getting over his crush, he found his interest was rising. She was calm, steady, responsible, genuine. Traits that he found more attractive even than her almond eyes.
